Nightmares
by Whouffle
Summary: A series of angsty whouffle oneshots {includes some mild triggers}
1. Nightmares

_AN: This was, strictly speaking, a starter on my tumblr RP blog (I'm a Clara in case anyone here wants to have it ;) ) and I accidentally carried it on into a one shot. I might continue it if I have any ideas, please leave a review if you want me to continue it (or if you don't, just leave a review!)_

_Happy New Year!_

* * *

_ Don't hurt him_

_Please_

_d o n ' t_

_Doctor! Get out of the way! Move!_

_C a n ' t_

_y o u_

_m e ?_

_Don't make me do this again_

** {…}**

_ Run,_

_ Run you Clever Boy,_

_ And remember._

Clara snapped awake, her eyes wide open as she sat upright in a mess of covers, tears staining her cheeks as she tried to calm her breathing. Bringing a shaky hand to cover her eyes and her face, she leaned over and curled herself up, descending into pained, fearful sobs. She hated being alone when she was like this, it terrified her, she'd stay awake wondering if this was real, or if she was dreaming now, if she really had died again.

The sacrifice she'd made for her friend was now beginning to leave a visible impact on her. She couldn't just hide the effects in her head; she'd wake up screaming, crying, she wasn't sleeping properly, her nights were haunted with the memories of her past, yet it wasn't her past, it was someone else's and all the memories were crammed into her head. During the day she was strong enough to fight the thoughts, and she kept herself busy enough to remove them from her mind. At night, however, she was far more vulnerable. She had no control over her thoughts and every night the nightmares returned, worse than the prior.

Sitting up with a mug of strong tea, she glanced at the clock. It was barely two in the morning, but she knew she wouldn't be sleeping again that night. Curling up on the sofa, she sipped at her tea as the demons in her head fought with each other, trying to occupy her thoughts and drive her slowly to madness.

_Run you clever boy -_

"**No…**"

_I __**am **__human - _

"**Stop… STOP IT!**"

_Are you going back to your cloud?_

"**STOP!**"

Clara stood up, screaming, dropping her mug on the floor and pulling at her hair, fresh tears staining her cheeks as she began to cry once again. Turning on the spot, she caught a blurred reflection of herself in the mirror. The Impossible Girl. The title no longer fit her, she was broken, she wasn't the girl who'd saved him, the Doctor, her friend. She was simply a product of what the Impossible Girl had done. The next thing she knew, she felt her legs crumpling beneath her, her whole body falling to the floor, holding herself tightly as she sobbed.

# # #

The Doctor panicked when Clara didn't open the door. It was Wednesday, they were going to go out as they always did and she was always at the door. He'd calculated that it took her only a few seconds to stand up and open the door. Sometimes she was already outside having heard the TARDIS landing, but not today. After five minutes of desperate knocking on her door, he sonicked it open and ran inside, looking around for her.

# # #

_ Clara..._

_CLARA!_

_ Clara can you hear me?!_

The Doctor's words barely reached her ears, her body still shaking violently. She'd fallen back to sleep and hadn't woken up, she'd dreamed about her deaths time and time again. Her body felt each stab, each gun shot, each fatality was felt, amplified, electrifying her unconscious body. When the Doctor had woken her, she was shaking in pain, every part of her body feeling numb with the sensation, tears uncontrollably falling down her cheeks, her mouth and eyes wide unable to show any emotion other than fear.

His arms picked up his Impossible Girl and held her gently, held her close. He'd sworn to protect her, but this wasn't his idea of protecting her. If the Doctor had ever known his Clara had been so broken, so hurt, he'd have done anything to help her.

"My Clara..." He whispered gently. "My beautiful, Impossible Girl. Oh Clara..." Placing a hand to her cheek, he softly stroked away her tears in order to try and calm her. His touch seemed to scare Clara and he felt her flinch, and she began to feel once more. The knowledge the Doctor could see her so vulnerable, so broken, she felt ashamed. He wasn't supposed to see her crashing and burning, to him she was the fiesty, flirty companion, not the scared broken girl before him now. As she began to regain movement, she quickly moved out of his arms and stumbled to stand up, taking the now broken mug in her hands and smiling at him, putting on her cheery masquerade once more.

"Tea?" She asked him, staggering into the kitchen, breaking his hearts that she didn't trust him enough to ask for help.


	2. Trapped

It had been a great idea, go off into some crashed spaceship in the wastelands, start exploring, split up. If anything had sounded less dangerous, she'd have welcomed it. Because it was this very sequence of events that had ended up with her stuck in a narrow part of a ship, clearly crushed in the impact. The more she tried to wriggle through and escape, the more painful it was and the more she realised that she was stuck. After a few more efforts of trying to escape, she felt something running down the back of her leg.

Blood.

Her leg must have caught on something, because it stung and it was bleeding. With no other option, she closed her eyes and winced as she yelled.

"DOCTOR!"

The silence scared her, it was still and in the darkness, she didn't know what was going to happen. Anything could happen, someone could jump out behind her, any survivors on the ship could tear him limb from limb and no one would ever know.

Hell, she didn't even know if he'd heard her desperate cry for him. What if he didn't hear? He'd never find her. He'd never know she was trapped in the dark. The thoughts rushing through her head made her panic but she held her composure; visually anyway. Trying to twist her head around to look back the way she'd come was useless, it was too dark and she couldn't move her head to look anyway.

"Doctor..." She repeated, her voice now a whisper as she practically begged aloud that he'd hear her and come for her, that he'd save her. And it dawned on her that even if he found her, how would he save her? He wasn't as small as her, he'd get trapped before he could reach her, and in front of her it was only getting narrower, so her stupid courage and determination to explore, find anyone alive... It'd gotten her killed.

The prospect of dying alone in the dark scared her, and she began to struggle in desperation to get out, to get back the way she'd come, but the metal in her leg dug in deeper and she gasped in pain. Well, this was it wasn't it? This was her death. If the Doctor did find her, she'd tell him, but she'd keep her calm. The last thing she could do was panic, especially if she was telling him she was going to die.

If he found her.

Clara closed her eyes gently and kept her breathing under control as she thought through what she'd tell him. That she was trapped, and there was no way to get her out, and he had to leave and tell her family, her father. The thought that she'd never be able to see her father again, or the children, or have her own children, everything she'd never done began to haunt her and cloud her mind and she threatened to break, tears threatening to fall. And that's when she heard him, his footsteps at the end of the passage way, his voice calling to her and her breath hitched in her throat. All of a sudden, he'd restored hope in her even though she knew it was impossible for her to get out.

"Doctor-" She said, before he cut her off.

"Clara, listen to me, I'm coming to get you. Just stay where you are."

"Not got much choice about that!" She called to him cheerily. "And you're not coming to get me. I need you to get in the TARDIS and fly away. The passage is too narrow, you'll just get stuck, like me. Except you'll get stuck before you're even close to reaching me. And..." Trailing off, she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing to talk to him calmly.

"And, Doctor, my leg's trapped. Part of the ship's digging into it, too deep for me to move my leg. You'd have to rip half my leg off to get me out, and then I'd never be able to get back to the TARDIS, not alive. I need you to go home, to Earth, and I need you to see my dad and apologise, from me. Tell him I'm so sorry that I couldn't see him again, and that I'm sorry I never told him how much I loved him. He needs to know what happened to me. He should know about everything, tell him about every adventure we've been on, every life we've saved together. Tell him how happy I've been with you, how I've had the time of my life and I couldn't've been happier. Maybe if he knows I was happy, maybe he'll feel better, he'll know that I didn't die in pain, he'll know I was doing what I loved, and I was happy as long as I was alive."

Clara stopped speaking for a moment, and she swore she could hear him crying, but he couldn't be crying, not over her. Why would he?

"And Angie, Artie, you need to tell the children how wonderful they are, how precious they are to me. How much I love them. Let them know that their mother will always be proud of them." Clara said softly.

"Oi, Chin Boy, you promise me you'll be happy. Because you've made my life the most wonderful thing, you've made me so happy. Even though I'm going to die in here, my life wouldn't have been improved if I hadn't met you. Sure, I wouldn't be dying in the darkness but, at the same time, I wouldn't have saved you millions of times over, I wouldn't have seen the stars, and in my whole life I wouldn't have been as happy as I have been every Wednesday we've spent together. Thank you Chin Boy, my beautiful, beautiful Chin Boy. Thank you for offering me the stars and giving me the world." She whispered to him sadly, the only thing she wanted more than to be alive in his arms was to see his smile, his stupid old chin, just to see everyone she loved once more. Clara could hear the Doctor's soft sobs and it broke her heart.

"Don't cry." She whispered. "Don't cry, Chin Boy, not over me. You go and travel the Universe, and do just one thing for me... Run. Run you Clever Boy, and remember me."


	3. Gone

The pain in Clara's back had been growing for several days now, and had now reached a crescendo of agony. Her fears were being confirmed, her hands were blood red and she knew exactly what was happening. She'd known for several days, but this was it, the worst had happened.

That was why she lay in a heap of skin and bones on the floor, her heart practically ripped out from her chest. She felt weak and dead inside, how could she have let this happen? Why had this happened to _her? _Of all the people in the world, it was her. Clara yearned for the Doctor, wishing he was at her side to help her, but that was impossible. He never even knew; she'd never been able to tell him. That madman, the beautiful man she believed herself to be in love with, she'd never been able to tell him. Running with aliens, it wasn't the sort of thing you could stop doing; you couldn't just stop and tell him something you thought was important. And then as soon as you'd finished running, he'd taken you home.

But because she'd never told him, she'd never have help. She'd never told him she was pregnant, so why break his heart all of a sudden and tell him she'd lost their child. And now, she was almost glad she'd never have the chance to tell him. How would he feel if he knew? He'd be so angry with her, how could she have been so careless? What had she done wrong?

A few tears stinging her eyes began to trail down her cheeks as she felt her abdomen tightening once more.

She knew what was happening, she'd researched everything and she knew her body had to get rid of her baby. Until then, Clara was simply a coffin, carrying the lifeless body of her baby. It was strange, at this stage she felt like her child: lifeless and numb. And she hated herself about it. How could she be so emotionless after losing her baby? Closing her eyes she winced in pain, and after a moment it was all over. Sitting up shakily, she looked at her feet and saw what she knew had to happen. That was her baby; that was it over with. Everything that needed to be removed had gone naturally, and physically, the pain was over. But mentally it had just begun. Twitching hands reached out and picked up the soft but bloody sac and her hands were stained further. Quickly beginning to wipe off the blood she began to see inside and it broke her heart further. Clara could see inside the sac, she could see her baby. Ten weeks and three days in, and she could see everything now. With a sudden burst of strength, Clara pulled herself up and turned on the sink tap. She put her palms under the flow of water and let the blood wash from her hands and the sac, before she could clearly see what was inside.

And in that second, everything became real.

She could see her child, the tiny form she could hold between her finger and thumb. Clara saw the tiny fingers and feet, curled up, still, dead. The first time she'd ever hold her baby, the last time she'd ever see her child. And the Doctor would never even know. He'd never see the beauty she was seeing now, what had been torn from the world. As everything came crashing down on her, she felt her legs going weak, she felt herself collapsing. Her grip tightened protectively on her baby as she fell, head smashing against the fall with an almighty crack. But she didn't care: what sort of person could physically or mentally have any regard for their own wellbeing when their child had died.

The heartbreak didn't fade as her head hit the floor; it was gone and replaced with an emotion she couldn't understand. It was guilt, sadness and anger combined. She blamed herself, her mother, her grandmother, every woman in her family who'd struggled to have children and left her in this position. She blamed herself for not telling the Doctor. If he'd known, he could've done something to help her; he could've stopped this from ever happening. There was no way she'd be able to hide this from him, not forever. He had to visit her; he'd find her there, crying over the corpse of their child. She wasn't going to be able to bring herself to move, to change, to clean up and put on a fake smile, she didn't have the strength to do more that lie there and cry. How ashamed would he be? So much for the _Impossible Girl, _the noble title he'd bestowed upon her, if only he could see her now. How broken she was, how tormented she was, the hatred she had for herself.

Once he laid eyes on her tonight, she'd leave her. She would be alone. And in a way, she knew she deserved that. If she couldn't rightfully care for a child before it was even born, why should she stand at the side of a god? Why should she stand at all? She was the Impossible Girl, and her story was done. It had finished long ago, and this was the slamming of the book, throwing it away, tearing it up. She was over, Clara Oswald was over.

And that was the last conscious thought she had before it all went black.


End file.
